Band on the Run
by atlee
Summary: Following the evidence becomes tricky when it leads to two so-called bombers from Burbank.
1. Chapter 1

_Here's a brief list of things I do not own:_

'_Chuck'_

'_CSI' (any of 'em)_

_the "Twilight" franchise_

_any songs by the Talking Heads, Who, Bon Jovi, Queen, or Kajagoogoo (ok, no Kajagoogoo songs appear in the story, but I just felt like pointing out that I'm not responsible for them)_

_That's a lot of stuff I don't own. Now I'm depressed._

**Band on the Run**

**Chapter 1**

"This is not how I like to spend a Sunday."

CSI Nick Stokes didn't feel like arguing, even if he'd spent many days doing this exact thing. Whenever there was a suspicious fire in the area, there would be rubble to sift through, and the crime lab would be the lucky folks to do it. Of course, in Las Vegas, there were a lot of fires, but rarely one that wasn't suspicious. So Nick had spent more than his fair share of time knee-deep in charred junk.

"Buck up, Greg. At least there aren't any bodies."

"Yeah, I guess not."

Stokes continued looking around for a sign of the point of origin. Or anything to explain how the Green Pines Motor Lodge was now permanently out of business. Nick suspected that not a lot of people would shed tears over this; it wasn't exactly a prime tourist spot, and it certainly had hosted its fair share of violent crimes in the past. Still, a fire was a fire, not matter what establishment played the role of victim.

"Hey Nick, I think I found something!"

Nick moved over to where Sanders was kneeling down. He could see the remnants of some very tacky-looking curtains on the ground. Next to them, the younger CSI was kneeling down, holding an old lighter. "I think it may have started here."

Stokes looked around. "So somebody lit the curtains with this lighter. Accidentally, or on purpose?"

Greg shrugged. "I can't tell."

"Well, bag the lighter. See anything else?"

"No, not… Hold on." Greg pulled out a bit of melted plastic from underneath a piece of curtain. "What is this?"

"Looks like an ID badge." Nick leaned in closer. "I can see a 'Ne' and a 'He'. That's it."

"Nehe? Don't know what that's supposed to be. Wait, are the letters in green?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I think it's part of 'Nerd Herd.'"

"Nerd Herd? Is that some sort of gaming convention?" Nick asked.

"No. They're those tech support guys from the Buy More."

"The electronics place? Hold on, did you hear about that explosion in Burbank? Wasn't that a Buy More?"

Greg nodded. "I think so. You think these are the same guys?"

"It's possible. The Buy More is a big chain, though, so it could just be coincidence. Still, we'd better look into it."

* * *

Nick was halfway back to his office when Captain Brass called.

"I hear you've developed a fascination with mad bombers."

"Well, this job gets you to meet all sorts of interesting people."

"Well, interesting is probably a bit of an overstatement. The names of your new friends are Lester Patel and Jeff Barnes. Patel worked for the Burbank Buy More for seven years, Barnes for twenty. The branch was supposedly about to close, which may have led to the bombing."

"That's a lot of loyalty to a job."

"Maybe so, if you consider blowing up a place with C4 to be loyal. They didn't leave much to comb through afterwards."

"C4? Where would they get that? Do they have any connections?"

"Doesn't seem like it. Patel doesn't have a record. Barnes has been busted on a few drunk-and-disorderlies. His mother, now there's a story. Passing bad checks, solicitation, hijacking an ice cream truck. But she's in the pen now. Maybe she connected her son with someone she knew inside."

"Seems possible. So they decide to take their show to Vegas and take down a hotel? And with a lighter instead of C4? Seems odd."

"Hey, I thought you guys always say 'follow the evidence' not 'try to follow the twisted psyche of a master criminal.'"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Captain."

* * *

As he headed to his office, Nick saw Greg talking to Archie, the department's A/V specialist. Greg looked up and motioned for Nick to walk by.

"So I did a quick internet search on our hotel fire suspects, and I found a few things," Archie explained.

"Something that connects them to this case?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Take a look."

Nick leaned over to see the monitor. There was a frozen image of two men standing inside a Buy More, most likely the site of the bombing. Archie dragged over the mouse and clicked on the play button at the bottom of the screen.

"_Good evening, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to our video blog_," the younger man said. He appeared to be of Indian or Pakistani descent, with his long hair haphazardly over his shoulders. "_I am Lester and here is my partner in crime, Jeff_."

"_Yo_," the second man said. He was clearly older, with only vague tufts of hair remaining on his head. Both of the men were dressed in short-sleeved white button-downs, with loosened neckties descending to the ground.

"_Tonight, I would like to talk about a blight that concerns us all. Something that threatens to pull this country apart by its seams_." The younger man spoke with passion.

"Sounds like a manifesto to me. Are these guys another Unabomber?" Nick commented.

"Keep watching," Greg replied.

"_I am talking, of course, about the 'Twilight' phenomenon. The books, the movies, the constant mooning over these guys by the teen girls that come in to the store. It has to stop."_

"_I don't get it,"_ the older man chimed in.

"_Me neither, Jeffrey. Me neither. As we all now, vampires are dangerous creatures. Murderers._"

"_They suck your blood._"

"_But not in these 'Twilight' movies. People, it's just wrong. Vampires are not about taking long walks on the beach, going to garden shows, and listening to Sarah McLachlan. And the young people of today need to learn this, before it's too late._"

"_Too late."_

"Wow," Nick looked over at Greg and Archie. "Are you sure these are our bombing suspects?"

Greg handed Nick a stack of papers. "Check the DMV photos on the second page. That's them."

Nick studied the pictures intently. It certainly looked like them, though it wasn't always easy to tell on faxed driver's license pictures. He looked back at the computer to confirm their identity, but this was made more difficult by Barnes now wearing a black wig.

"_Oh Edward,"_ Barnes was saying in a high-pitched voice. _"Please don't kill me! I'm just a poor, helpless girl all alone in the woods."_

"_Of course I won't." _Patel said in a bad British accent. _"I'd much rather talk about your feelings, and then watch a re-run of 'Gilmore Girls.'"_

Nick glanced back at the others. Both had big grins on their faces. "In case you're keeping score," Archie said, "I'm on Team Lester and Greg is on Team Jeff."

"That's great, but did you find anything that might be useful. Say a video of them talking about the bombing or the hotel fire?"

"Actually, just about everything else on here is of their band."

"They have a band too?" Nick said incredulously. "Wait, maybe we could track down one of the other members…"

"It's just the two of them. They call themselves 'Jeffster.'"

Nick made a face. "Cute. So nothing useful?"

Archie shrugged. "There are quite a few videos. They've got a Bon Jovi, a Queen song, an acoustic Peter Paul and Mary. Oh, they've got a version of 'Who Are You' on here too. Do want to hear that one?"

"No, that's ok. Is there anything recent?"

"Well, according to the site, this was posted yesterday." Archie clicked on a link, and the screen now showed Barnes and Patel in a dark room huddled in front of the camera.

"_Hey, I'm sure you have heard about our recent troubles with Johnny Law," Patel whispered into the camera. "But that doesn't mean we've forgotten about our loyal fans."_

"_Yeah, so we thought we'd do a special show for you, all about our recent crimes."_

"Alleged_ crimes, Jeffrey."_

"_Right, alleged crimes." _Barnes touched a finger to his nose, and winked.

"These guys can't be for real," Nick commented as he watched this unfold on screen. "Wait, is that a keytar?"

Barnes had produced the instrument in question. Meanwhile, Patel had just put on an oversized white jacket. Leaning into the camera, he began to sing.

"_Watch out you might get what you're after_

_Cool baby strange but not a stranger_

_I'm an ordinary guy_

_Burning down the house_."

"Does that count as a confession?" Greg wondered aloud.

"I'm not sure. But if we can't link them to the hotel fire, we've still got one crime to connect them too." Nick had never been a big fan of the Talking Heads, but he didn't see how they deserved to have this done to their songs.

The older man was now "soloing" and the camera briefly panned in on him. Behind him, Nick could see a couch with a rather ugly paisley design on it. Above the couch, Nick could just make out a seascape on the wall.

"Hold on, I think I know where that is. It's the High Road Inn down off of Route 146. We've had to process scenes there many times," he added in explanation. "I distinctly remember those couches."

"I can see why," Greg said. "Well that means they're definitely in the area. Maybe they're still there?"

"I'll call Brass, and we'll check it out."

* * *

_I've never done a crossover before, so hopefully I'm not offending fans of two different shows. Please review, and let me know if this is worth continuing. It would probably be a short story (about 4 chapters).  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Yeah, I remember them." The manager pushed a hand through his thinning red hair. "Weird guys."

Nick watched the manager flip through the registry. From his vantage point, he didn't see a lot of names. "Slow times, Mr. Carson?"

The manager snorted. "No slower than most. But still slow. My partner, George, he's got all these ideas about bringing in new business. Indoor pool, free continental breakfast, all that. I tell him, 'We can't compete with all the chains, so why bother? And we've got a vending machine that will give you free candy bars if you hit it just right. That continental enough for you?' Ah, here it is." He stopped flipping, and turned the book around.

"Lester Capone, and Jeff Blofeld?" Greg read. "Are you kidding?"

"Told you, they were weird guys. Loud music, too. Popular, apparently. You're the second bunch to come looking for them."

"Really?" Nick asked with surprise.

"Yup. Big guy and a little guy. Seemed to be in law enforcement too. What did these guys do?"

"The investigation is ongoing, Mr. Carson. Can't tell you anything more."

"Well, I don't think your friends found them, because they looked pretty unhappy when they left. So I guess it's still ongoing for them too."

"So, uh, Capone and Blofeld, they checked out?"

"Nope. Still registered for another night."

Nick nodded. That meant they should still be in the area. "Can we see the room, see if they left any evidence behind?"

The manager shrugged. "Can't see why not." He grabbed an old key from behind the desk, and Nick and Greg followed him back into the sunlight.

The motel room was on the first floor, near the algae-covered swimming pool. The manager stuck the key into the lock, and with a grunt, pushed the door open.

The room was dark, but it was clear that the maid hadn't arrived. Nick wasn't sure whether this was due to timing, good fortune, or the lack of steady housekeeping.

"Maid's late today," the manager answered the unspoken question. "Sick kid, or something."

Nick could see that their work was cut out for them, as there was no shortage of places to check for evidence in the room. The covers to the two twin beds were crumpled nearby the floor. A trash can underneath the scratched desk hadn't been emptied. And Nick thought he detected a faint smell that he had come to recognize from the years on the job. Seeing that Greg noticed it too, he led the other CSI towards the closet.

As far as Nick could tell, the man in the closet had been dead for a few hours. At first, Nick thought it was Barnes, but upon closer look, the dead man was thinner and had darker hair. The knife on the ground seemed to leave little doubt as to the cause of death.

"That's George," the manager said, standing behind Nick. "Guess he won't be sprucing the place up now."

* * *

"It's not looking too good for those two guys, is it?" Greg asked. They were back in the SUV, after spending the rest of the day processing the scene, collecting the manager's statement, and waiting for the body to be taken away. There had been a partial fingerprint on the knife too, which would have to be run through all the databases.

"No, it certainly doesn't. Still, I don't like the lack of any blood spatter. A knife wound like that, there should have been arterial spray."

"You think that our vic was killed somewhere else, and left in the closet?"

"It's possible. Too early to rule anything out."

"Well, it sure looks like our guys split the scene. And it's not like they haven't left a wake of destruction behind them, either."

"We'll know more when we look at everything they left behind." They'd bagged everything in the wastebaskets, and would return to the scene later for a more thorough search. "They left everything there but a trail of breadcrumbs."

* * *

"Cause of death was a wound to the lower abdomen. Consistent with the knife you found at the scene." Nick was looking at the sad remains of George Mercker while Doctor Robbins was speaking.

"Now there is some bruising on the body that appears to have occurred post-mortem." The doctor pointed at a few spots on the legs and harms.

"So the body could have been moved after he'd been killed?"

"Definitely a possibility."

* * *

Nick found Greg hunched over the conference table, sorting through three cans' worth of garbage. "There's a lot of stuff for one day," he commented, and Nick nodded. The manager had assured them that the maid had cleaned the two suspects' room the previous day.

"Anything useful?"

"Lots of soda cans, and twinkie wrappers. A ticket stub to 'Prince of Persia.' Some crumpled-up sheet music. A cloth with some sort of substance…"

Nick made a face.

"Not that substance, though there is a copy of 'Playchick' magazine here, too. I'm not sure what was on that cloth, but I sent it off to Hodges to check."

"So they didn't leave a forwarding address?"

"No, I don't think that even these guys would… Wait!" Greg produced what looked like a page from the previous day's newspaper. "There's something circled here. 'Shotzz presents Battle of the Bands, June 11 at 7 PM.' That's three hours from now."

"You don't think they'd actually show?"

"With these guys, I wouldn't rule out anything."

* * *

"Let's hear it for the 'International Summit of Chickens'! There will be a few minute break before we bring on the next act."

The MC's announcement was greeted with some mild applause by the crowd. Nick pushed his way through the assembled onlookers to keep an eye out for the two suspects. Captain Brass was easy to spot a few feet in front of him. Most people were giving him a wide berth, as he wasn't exactly blending in with the crowd. Few people looked more like a cop than Brass.

As Nick moved closer to the stage, he almost bumped into somebody. His apology was cut short as he recognized the man in his way. "Hodges?" he asked the lab tech. "I didn't know you were in the field tonight?"

"I'm not."

"Then, why…"

"I thought I'd check out the show. Archie showed me some of Jeffster's videos. They're quite good, actually."

Nick gave him a puzzled look. "Are you sure you watched the right videos?"

"Hey, they're quite…theatrical. I'm thinking of joining their mailing list."

"Well, you do realize we're going to pick them up as soon as they get on stage, right?"

"You're not even going to let them do one song?"

"They're murder suspects, Hodges. Not to mention burning down a motel, and bombing a Buy More."

"Allegedly. And besides, anyone blowing up a Buy More is doing a public service in my opinion. Terrible customer service. I remember one time I went in to pick up a set of speakers for my…"

"Wendy?" Nick had just noticed that Hodges wasn't alone, and cut off his complaint.

Wendy shrugged. "Hodges told me these guys were good, so I tagged along."

"You really should let them play," Hodges told him. "They have a good shot of winning."

"I don't know," Wendy said. "Those female rappers were pretty good."

"The Little Urban Annies?" Hodges asked in response. "Really? They were cute, I guess, but really..."

"Please, you're just saying that because they were women!"

"Hey, I'm just saying that because their rhymes were derivative and their choreography was predictable. Now I did kind of like the Kung-fu Aardvarks, but they're no Jeffster."

Nick backed away as Wendy and Hodges continued bickering. He checked his phone, and saw that he had a text from Greg: 'Jeffster arrived. Next on stage.'

Almost as if he'd received the text as well, the MC trotted onto the stage a moment later. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next band comes to you from all the way in Burbank, California. Here they are, ready to rock you to the depths of your souls, Jeffster!"

Nick recognized the two mean who ran out onto the stage. Both men were wearing gold jumpsuits, the older man with a keytar, the younger with a guitar.

"'Hello, Las Vegas. We are Jeffster, and we are here to put an end to this silly contest right now," the younger man, Lester, announced into the microphone. A moment later, Barnes started an intro on the keytar, and Lester began to sing.

"_Stuck inside these four walls,_

_sent inside forever._

_Never seeing no one nice again, like you_

_Mama you, mama you."_

Jeffster's harmonizing was suddenly cut short as the house lights turned on. Brass led several of his men to both ends of the stage. Nick could see several other men backstage, cutting off Barnes and Patel's escape.

"Crap! It's the fuzz!" Barnes yelled, and whirled around looking for an escape. A moment later, he tripped on the power cord for an amplifier, and landed face down on the stage.

Patel was a bit more successful. "Fans! Catch me!" he yelled as he leaped off the stage. His request was completely ignored, and he landed with a thump onto the floor. Nonplussed, he got to his feet, and ran towards the exit, only to run headlong into the extended arm of a bouncer.

"Thank you, sir," Nick heard Captain Brass say to the bouncer, as he grabbed Patel.

"Once again, the Man is trying to bring us down," Patel protested, as he was being lead away.

"Well, the Man saw Wings do that song in concert in 1975. He didn't want to see that memory destroyed." He motioned for one of the plainclothes' officers to grab Patel, and the two members of Jeffster were led out of the club.

_So is there any hope for Jeff and Lester? Is there any hope for this story? I'll reveal the answer to the first question, if you review and reveal the answer to the second..._


	3. Chapter 3

_I do not own 'Chuck.'_

_I do not own 'CSI'._

_Also, to be safe, here are a few other "C" items I do not own:_

"_CHIPS"_

"_Clarissa Explains it All"_

"_Charlie's Angels" – the 70's TV show. As for the movie… (checks)… nope, don't own that either_

_The Burt Reynolds classic "Cop and a Half"_

_The Barry Manilow tune "Copacabana"_

_A recording of "C is for Cookie" performed by Charlotte Church, Coolio, the Counting Crows and Charisma Carter (though I really hope this exists)_

**Chapter 3**

"Let's start with the big guy first."

Nick couldn't argue with Brass's suggestion. Wendy had already confirmed that the partial print found on the knife belonged to Barnes, making him the chief suspect. Plus, from what he'd seen, getting the older man to break didn't seem like much of a challenge, provided that he didn't ask for an attorney.

Barnes eased those fears as soon as he was brought into the interrogation room. "Lawyers are for sissies," he commented. "Bring it on, pigs."

Brass didn't seem offended at all. "I admire your willingness to cooperate, Jeff. Hopefully, we can get all of this unpleasantness taken care of quickly."

"Oh I can handle unpleasant. I've been called 'Mr. Unpleasant' many times."

"I can believe that. Now, how about you tell me what happened this morning."

Barnes thought for a moment. "Well, I woke up early. About 10 or so. I had my usual Cheerios and beer breakfast. Then Lester and I jammed for a bit. You know, to get ready for the battle."

"Right. That's very interesting. But I'm thinking more about what happened with the co-manager, George."

"Oh, that guy? He came and said we were being too loud. Can you believe that? I mean, I get him asking us to play louder so he could hear us, but why would he want us quieter?"

"That was pretty rude of him. I guess what you did makes complete sense, then."

"Well, I figured I had to do something."

"Well, you certainly did that." Brass leaned forward, anticipating the confession, while Nick continued to watch the interview progress.

"Still, it was a waste."

"Oh yeah, how so?"

"I could have drank that beer."

"Beer?" Brass paused, confused.

"Yeah, the bottle I threw at him."

"Oh, the beer bottle. And then?"

"It missed. I figured he'd come back to kick us out. But he never showed. At least I don't remember…"

Nick could see that Brass was beginning to feel frustrated, so he spoke up. "And what about the knife?"

"Knife?"

"Your knife. We have it, and know it belongs to you."

"You found my knife? I was wondering where that went. Thought I left it in the car or something."

Nick could see that this wasn't getting anywhere. A change in approach was needed. "What about what happened at the Green Pines?"

"The who?"

"The Green Pines Motor Lodge. You stayed there two nights ago. Before you had to leave because of the fire."

"There was a fire? Cool. Sorry I missed it."

"Missed it. Are you sure?"

"Well, my short-term memory is kind of shot. Plus I think I was kind of drunk."

* * *

Unlike his bandmate, Patel didn't seem particularly eager to be helpful. "So are you supposed to be good cop and bad cop?" he asked, after being motioned to the seat at the interrogation room table. "Or maybe just old cop, and … overly good-looking cop?"

"Don't be silly," Brass replied. "Stokes isn't that old. So how about you tell us about George."

"George? George…Harrison? George Hamilton?"

"George, the body in your hotel room." After the failure with Barnes, Brass seemed more impatient with Patel.

"Wait, what? Are you trying to pin something on us? Because I don't know any George."

"Really, because he seems to know your buddy's knife."

Patel laughed nervously. "Now, wait. Why would Jeffrey kill somebody?"

"Why don't you tell us? Maybe he recognized you as the Buy More bombers. Said he'd turn you in, so you decided to make sure that didn't happen."

Patel looked excited for a moment. "Recognized us? Really, we're that famous?"

"Now that you're murderers as well as bombers? Absolutely."

The color drained from Patel's face. "Now just a minute here. I didn't…"

"That's right." Nick recognized the determination on Brass's face. "You didn't. So why go down for this along with Barnes? I mean, after all, he's just the backup, and you're the lead singer right."

"Well that's true, but I don't think I could go a capella…"

Brass waved this off. "Oh he's replaceable. But I can tell that you are the real strength of the band."

"Really? Wait," Patel's brow furrowed. "How could you tell? You stopped us before we could start playing."

Brass look stumped, so Nick jumped in. "Working in Vegas, we get to see a lot of concerts, so it's become kind of second nature to us. We can recognize talent without even hearing it."

"Oh," Patel looked mollified.

"But maybe now nobody is going to hear that talent," Brass jumped in again. "Just because you decided to be noble, and protected a murderer. "No fame, no fortune, just a tiny cell shared with the man who took it all away from you."

Patel's eyes narrowed. "You know, that would be a waste."

Brass pressed on. "Besides, if you cooperate and tell us what happened, maybe you'll be a hero, and become really famous. Why, I'll bet the motel fire was all Jeffrey too."

Patel nodded with some enthusiasm. "Well, actually…"

A pounding on the window interrupted any further confession.

"Who did they say they were?"

"CIA." Nick's boss, Catherine Willows, replied to Nick's question. As soon as they had left the interrogation room, a frustrated Captain Brass had headed off to meet the mysterious arrivals.

"CIA? What would they want with these two?"

"Apparently they're suspected of being agents of a foreign government."

"Seriously?" Nick couldn't believe that. "And you actually got the CIA to admit that much?"

"The little one was actually quite talkative. The older one didn't seem too happy about that. They must be new partners or something."

They both turned as Captain Brass returned to the hallway. "It looks like they check out. I managed to get a hold of an assistant to a General Beckman, and she confirmed it. They want our dynamic duo."

"That's it?" Nick asked. "We just give them up?"

"Well, they are murder suspects. That gives us some leeway if we want to start a jurisdiction battle. It would have helped if we could have gotten a confession. I thought I was about the break the short one, but now…"

Catherine turned to Nick. "What about the evidence? Is there enough to be able to hold them?"

"Maybe," he responded. "We've got the knife, plus the evidence we found at the Green Pines. Still' there are a couple of inconsistencies I want to check on."

"Well keep looking into it. We've got maybe a day left, so be quick. And let me know what you find."

* * *

"You know, historically a lot of our great artists haven't been the most upstanding citizens. Wagner was an anti-Semite. Mozart was a womanizer. Elvis liked those fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

Nick hadn't come to the lab for that particular bit of information. "That's great, but I'm here about the cloth, Hodges. Were you able to identify the substance on it?" After a pause, "And do you really want to compare those two yahoos to Mozart and Elvis?"

"Hey, music is a subjective experience. I'm just saying you have to give certain allowances for an artistic temperament."

"Murder is a bit too much for me to allow, Hodges. The cloth?"

Hodges sighed, then handed Nick a printout. "Benzalkonium chloride, chlorophenol, and Isopropyl alcohol."

"Household cleaner?"

"With a pine-fresh scent. And for what it's worth, the proportions of the active ingredients is only found in industrial-grade cleaner."

Nick stared at the sheet for a moment, then grabbed his phone. "Greg?"

"Hey Nick."

"Greg. Do you remember if the trash had been emptied in the hotel the day before the murder?"

"Yeah, it was. Why?"

"Well, I think our band may be innocent after all."


	4. Chapter 4

_I don't own Chuck or CSI (any of 'em), though I think I have a rare Jeffster bootleg in the back of a closet somewhere…_

**Chapter 4**

The woman looked uncertain of herself, and her gaze bounced rapidly between Nick and Captain Brass. Occasionally, she would look over towards the door of the interrogation room, as if she was about to try to burst through the door.

Satisfied that he had waited long enough, Captain Brass finally spoke. "You're name is Martina Johnson. Is that correct?"

The woman nodded mutely.

"And you are currently employed as a maid at the High Road Inn."

The woman finally spoke. "That's right."

Brass flashed a friendly smile. "Must be tough work, being on your feet all day."

The woman shrugged. "It pays the bills. I'm a single mother," she added in explanation.

"Oh, yes. I can see how that must be tough. And I understand the poor fellow is sick?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, my son has a fever."

"So I can understand why you didn't come into work yesterday."

"Yes, I called in sick."

"You missed quite a bit of excitement too, Martina. Your boss, George, getting killed and all. It's ok if I call you Martina, right?"

"I suppose so."

"Great, Martina. As I was saying, you calling in sick, missing all the action. What time did you call the hotel?"

The woman shrugged. "Mid-morning or so."

"Kind of late to call, but I suppose you had attend to your son. But here's the funny thing. I actually think that you were at work after all. At least for a bit."

"Of course not. My boy was sick."

Brass turned to Nick. It was his turn. He stood up from his seat at the end of the table and moved towards the woman, a bag in his hand. "We found this towel in the wastebasket of Room 8, where George Mercker's body was found. It has trace levels of various chemicals consistent with cleaning solution. The cleaning solution used by the motel."

"So?" Martina asked. "It may have been used the day before."

"The trash was picked up that night. It wouldn't have been left behind."

"Then someone else must have used it."

"No one had access to the cleaning supplies other than you and George. Here's what I think," Brass said as he moved closer to the suspect. "I think you did show up to work that morning. You entered Room 8 while the two occupants were off getting breakfast. While you were cleaning, you found the knife. Then, maybe George came in to check up on you. Or maybe you found it the day before, and planned to lure George in…"

"No." The woman's shoulders slumped. "It wasn't like that. One of the men staying in the room had left their wallet. I was tempted, I picked it up. Then George saw me in the window. He threatened to fire me, and… I panicked. The knife was on the floor, and I grabbed it." She looked down. "I was scared. I needed the job."

"Then you moved the body to the closet?"

The woman nodded. "I realized that the two men staying there would be blamed. I heard them talking, they were already on the run from something. So I undid everything I did, refilled the trash cans, undid the beds, and I got out of there."

"And the knife?"

"I threw it out. In a dumpster."

Brass waved at the one-way mirror in the interrogation room, and two officers came to take the maid to booking.

* * *

An hour later, the maid had been taken into custody. The murder of George Mercker had been solved. This meant that Lester Patel and Jeff Barnes were no longer persons of interest, as far as the Las Vegas Police Department were concerned. Whether the Green Pines Motor Lodge burned down by their hands didn't matter to them.

The same couldn't be said for Nick. Heading down the hallway to his office, he paused to see two men talking with Catherine. The two CIA agents. Nick waited in the hallway until the conversation was over, and one of the men headed down the hallway toward him. To his surprise, the agent smiled.

"Hey, you must be the CSI agent in charge of the investigation. Nice to meet ya."

"Nick Stokes." Nick didn't offer to shake the CIA Agent's hand. As Brass had said, the man was short, with a neatly cropped beard framing his face. The suit he wore was somewhat ill-fitting, and in all he didn't fit Nick's mental image of a CIA spook.

"Good to meet you, Nick Stokes." The shorter man fumbled with his pocket for a moment, before finally coming up with a badge. "Agent Morgan Grimes. CIA." After a brief pause, he said, "So, I've gotta tell you, I've always been fascinated by that crime scene stuff. I watch all of those shows. You know, the one in Miami, the one in New York, and that first one… the one in Topeka. You must love your job."

"Oh sure, the work's great. Having your toes stepped on, not so much."

"Your toes? Oh you mean the whole taking your suspects thing. Yeah, well Jeff and Le – I mean the two suspects, they are important to an ongoing investigation of ours."

Nick gave the shorter man a speculative glance. "You really do believe those two are terrorists?"

"Ah, but I am not at liberty to say," the CIA agent smiled. "But let's just say the world is a safer place without them roaming around."

"That I can agree on. Ah, here's one of them now." Nick followed Agent Grimes' gaze, to see three officers struggling to drag Barnes into the hallway. The prisoner did not seem happy. Agent Grimes headed over to join his fellow agent, who had just put Barnes in a headlock.

Seeing his chance, Nick headed over to the lockup area.

* * *

Patel seemed calmer than his band mate. Flanked by two armed guards, he showed no interest in escaping or fighting his way to freedom. Nick moved into lockstep with him, and turned to the prisoner.

"You seem a bit more at ease than your partner," Nick commented.

"Yeah, Jeffrey's been sober for a good twelve hours now. Doesn't really sit well with him."

"So tell me, Lester. The fire at the Green Pines. That was you guys, right?"

Before Patel could retort, Nick added, "Relax, the case is already closed. This is just professional curiosity."

"Ah, professional curiosity. Never been a victim of that, myself." We walked alongside Nick for a moment, before speaking. "Yes, but it was an accident. You see, we were practicing our ballads. Every battle-of-the-bands contestant has to close with a ballad. And we were totally in a zone. So Jeffrey got in the moment, and pulled out his lighter to, you know…" Patel raised an arm and waved it around, before one of the officers grabbed it and pulled it back down. "Anyway," Patel continued, "it turns out it's kind of hard to do that and play the keytar at the same time."

"Aha."

As he watched the CIA agents take Patel and Barnes away, Nick decided he could give himself a pass for not figuring that one out.

* * *

One month later, Nick was walking through the hallway when a slightly familiar, very disturbing sound came from the lab. Somewhat reluctantly, he stopped and glanced inside.

"Is that…?" Nick asked as soon as he saw the laptop screen on Hodges' desk.

"Jeffster, back in action," Hodges replied. He reached over and turned up the volume.

"_The nights are getting warmer, it won't be long_

_Won't be long till summer comes_

_Now that the boys are here again_

_The boys are back in town_

_The boys are back in town…"_

Hodges turned the volume back down. "I never would have pegged them as Thin Lizzy fans, but they do pull it off."

Nick chose not to argue this, but instead said, "So the CIA just let them go? What about the whole international terrorist thing?"

"Here, watch from the beginning." Hodges reached over to his laptop, and the video restarted. Even though he had other things to attend to, Nick couldn't help but watch.

"_Hello, Jeffster devotees out there, it's me Lester."_

"_And me, Jeff."_

"_For those of you who have followed our recent legal difficulties, we have excellent news. We are once again free!"_

"_Free. Like birds. Or like anything in the Buy More lost-and-found."_

"_That's right, Jeffrey. And to top it all off, the Government was so apologetic, that they've invited us to a very special Rock-and-roll fantasy camp. And even though they didn't originally make it clear that we were to be students, rather than teachers…"_

"_Total missed opportunity."_

"…_still, we have to tell you that we are very psyched about getting the chance to tighten up our showmanship a bit." Lester looked down for a moment, and his expression on the screen was somewhat subdued when he looked back at the camera. "The bad news is that we have been informed that there is no internet connection at the camp."_

"_We'll be roughing it. Like real campers."_

"_Exactly, Jeffrey. And when we return, we will be Rock Gods! So keep your eyes on this site for our eminent return. In the mean time, we've got a song to celebrate our return…"_

Hodges turned the volume back down after that. "Rock-and-roll fantasy camp, with no internet access? I think their stay may be a little longer than they expect."

"It wouldn't be the first time a government bunker has ended a band. Look what happened to Guns n' Roses."

Before Nick could respond, Hodges said, "It's really a shame. Such a loss. And it's probably all a big government cover-up too."

Nick patted Hodges on the shoulder, and headed back to his office. For a moment, he seriously considered what the lab tech had said. Patel and Barnes certainly didn't seem dangerous, or capable of getting a hold of C4. And he was pretty sure that keytar-related crime was rare among actual terrorists. What if this was some cover-up, and they were just some convenient scapegoats to pin the bombing on?

In the end, Nick just shook his head. He was trained to interpret the evidence, and the evidence said they were guilty. He needed to think empirically, after all.

It was just hard to think when the sound of Jeffster was stuck in your head.

**End**

* * *

_Well, I hope you enjoyed my little crossover story. It was really more of a "Chuck" story, but I liked the idea of basing it on an outsider's perspective. Hopefully, it came off as being true to the CSI characters (even if the forensics/science was way off)._

_Please review and let me know what you think!_


End file.
